Slitherhigh Academy
by MrsCaptain
Summary: Voldemort has power, but not only over wizarding England, but the muggle world as well. Toujours pur is no longer and the muggles and magical people live among one another. But muggles are still muggles and Voldemort saw no reason for them to know about their magical abilities. However, they attend the same jobs (that aren't magical) and the same schools. And this is about a school


It was like a prison. Except the real bullies were no guards and there were no cigarette machines. Although the older kids smoked, but I didn't know where they got the cigarettes from, I guess in that way they were smarter but still dumb enough to destroy themselves. The teachers weren't oblivious to what was happening, they were a part of it.

In fact, I'm pretty sure they started it all. This kid, Wennermhann, had proven to be... Well something deemed as unacceptable. By the teachers and the ignorant people out there who could never understand Wennermhann for what he really was. No different.

I had one friend, but he moved away to a place that didn't involve beating the living shit out of boys who didn't behave, but rather give them a late supper or ground them as a punishment enough. I could only dream that that would one day be enough here. I always wondered what it was like at the girl's side of the school, what if it was just as bad as our side? Or worse? I hope they have it better. No one deserves this.

The boys all slept in the same big, almost empty, dark and echo filled room. Only our beds, showers in the next room and the sound of footsteps were accepted in the storage look-a-like building. A trunk by the bed was acceptable nowadays, thank Merlin, I had a picture of my mother in there, and of my father so I wouldn't get beaten for disrespecting him. Or end up like Wennermhann.

Our school uniforms had to be in that trunk as well, so it didn't leave a lot of space for much else. The uniform looked a lot like a muggle army costume. I bet the girls got to wear something more comfortable than this, for some reason, we didn't.

Every day at noon the bell rang at least 500 students to lunch, while the other 1500 students were either on recess or in class. The school was huge, but given that we had to live there it also had to be. It would've been too crowded to walk the halls or even exist there at all.

Teachers were always monitoring lunches and the halls, not a single person stepped out of line or raised their voice in front of a... well, let's just call them what they really are, sadists.

I had heard stories about people being brought to the principal's office and being tortured to the sadist's content. He was pleased as were the others, laughter as deep and dark as the devil himself travelled through the darkness of the school. Nothing would ever redeem this man, not even Merlin himself.

My name? Draco, Draco Malfoy.

Son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. I am attending a muggle school, a private school. A prison.

Why? You may ask. Because hell has frozen over and pigs can fly, you guessed it. Voldemort has power.

His associates are almost as powerful as The Dark Lord himself, and there was chaos brought out into the rest of the world. He wanted all of them, not just wizarding England but the muggle world as well. Blood purity? There was no such thing anymore, let's just say that The Dark Lord had met some pretty darn convincing people, and sadly enough, he thought, they would die if he didn't change people's minds about toujours pur.

He'd accepted his father's roots but still made it very clear that he was proud of his wizard's status. Although the muggles and the magical people were attending the same schools and living in society together they had no idea that magic existed.

Voldemort may have accepted them as his "equal" minions, but he knew letting them know about their advantages would definitely create treason and revolt.

One of his most loyal servants, a woman, named Bellatrix Black was the most respected and feared _(if that was not just synonyms for one another, the latter being the correct term to describe both the student's and the teacher's behaviour towards her)_ person at this school. She wouldn't teach, but she would preach, the propaganda of the Dark Lord spewed from her most passionate place in her heart and out of her mouth and into our ears. Creatively and easily condemning us all to his power. Submitting ourselves was easier said than done. The guilt, the training and the punishments were extreme.

I had thought about being a rebel, saving every last soul in this godforsaken place that deserved a life, because this was no way to live. But who would I go to? That wouldn't betray me so abruptly that I would be tortured to death or just a crippled state.

_Something_ had to be done.


End file.
